


Promises of Infinity

by Setcheti



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e22 Cogenitor, First Time, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Romance, Sexual Roleplay, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:58:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2460770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of <em>Cogenitor</em>, Trip Tucker needs a friend. But the one who finds him is destined to be ever so much more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises of Infinity

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for Tex, who asked me for a Q fix fic, and this ‘kinder, gentler Q’ was the result. Spoilers for Cogenitor, obviously, for TNG, and for my favorite episode of Voyager although you’ll have to know it pretty well to spot the reference. This fic also features Crazy!Archer and Bad!Malcolm, and some porn which doesn't involve either one of them.

Trip Tucker responded automatically to the malfunction reading that came up on his board, grabbing some tools and climbing into the access tunnel nearest to the problem. He tested a few circuits…but eventually the feelings he’d been holding back overcame him and he sank down against the uncomfortably curved side of the tunnel and curled in on himself. He hadn’t been relieved of duty, but he also hadn’t been allowed to call off duty either and was at the moment pulling what the new roster said was the third of an endless line of double shifts with no days off in between. And he hadn’t had to check the other schedules to know that his was set up to keep him isolated from the rest of the officers on board, especially from the bridge crew. Not that any of them seemed to notice, or care. And why should they? He wasn’t worth it, he’d never been worth it and now they all knew that for a fact.

Trip was by nature a social person, and on top of everything else that had happened the added pressure of his enforced isolation was crushing him. And he couldn’t take it any more, his strength was gone. Right now all he wanted was for the universe to just collapse in on him, but the universe refused; he was insignificant in the grander cosmic scale, worthless in the eyes of infinity.

Well, of most of it anyway. One small portion took notice and turned his not inconsiderable attention on the human crumpled sobbing in the bowels of the warp five engine. The awareness drew nearer, curiosity probing. The pain echoing off the man was emotional, not physical, he determined, but so intense that it was coming perilously close to sending the man’s system into overload. He subdued that reaction for the moment, wanting to know more about what was going on. The ship was small and not nearly so advanced as what he was used to from the humans he usually interacted with, but his observations of the species would have led him to expect that the crew would be close, even intimate. So why was this senior officer of selfsame ship enduring such pain alone? A quick scan of the others aboard showed no answering pain, no deep concern. He found a connection to the captain, a fairly well-established one that spoke of a long-term acquaintance, but even that reflected only indifference, impatience… _disgust_? What the hell was that doing there?

Q noted to himself that he must be spending too much time hanging around the _Enterprise_ if his inner voice was starting to sound like Will Riker. But he would worry about that later. He wasn’t sure why it was that this particular human’s anguish had called to him across the reaches of time and space, but now that he was here he wasn’t just going to let it go.

He snorted. Apparently he’d been spending too much time around Picard and Janeway as well; he’d not only developed a conscience to go with his curiosity, he’d acquired compassion as well. He materialized right beside the man in the access tunnel but didn’t say anything at first, continuing to keep the physical effects of the engineer’s mental state in hand – that was who he was, Commander Charles Tucker III, chief engineer of _Enterprise_ NX-01. A very important man in Starfleet and to this particular ship, whether he knew it right now or not. After a few moments Q put out one hand and began to stroke the dark blond hair soothingly, faintly surprised by how softly it slid through his fingers. “There, there,” he crooned. “Want to talk about it?”

A surprised hitch invaded Tucker’s ragged breathing at the sound of a strange voice so close to him and his head jerked up, almost slamming into the panel behind him. “Who…”

“A friend.” Q made himself a little more comfortable, and in doing so scooted a bit closer. “It looks like you need one, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Tucker shook his head – in denial of the situation, not the observation. “Am I dreamin’?”

“If that would help, certainly.” Q snapped his fingers and the tunnel was replaced by a green hill under a cloud-dotted sky. Fields stretched out in the distance, perfect squares of green, brown and gold leading up to a neat toy farm in the distance which was backed by meadows and finally woods that crept over the horizon. “Is this better?”

Wide blue eyes blinked, taking it all in, and then the engineer relaxed somewhat. Tucker swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Yeah,” he all but whispered. “It is, thanks.”

“You’re most welcome, Charles.” The man had a nickname, but Q thought it might be better not to use it under the circumstances – it was what his captain and friends had been calling him, before. “You can call me Q, by the way.”

“Thank you, Q.” He looked around again. “It’s beautiful here, kind of reminds me of home.”

“I thought you might like it.” Q settled himself a little more comfortably in the grass. “Now, would you like to talk about it?”

“No,” Tucker answered immediately, his head dropping again. “Not meanin’ to be rude, but thinkin’ about the whole thing just makes it worse – every time I try to sort it out I find somethin’ else I did wrong.” A sniff. “Apparently screwin’ up is the only thing I’m good for – that and keepin’ the engines runnin’.”

“I’m not sure I agree with you on that.” Q took a quick look of his own into the situation…and felt a surge of anger. The man had made a mistake, yes, but it was the sort of mistake common to species new to first contact and the outcome hadn’t been foreseeable or necessarily even preventable. He snorted mentally. This Captain Archer should know that, he’d made more than a few such blunders in the past two years. And then for Tucker to find that during the whole incident his lover had been initiating his own version of first contact with the newcomers…good lord, no wonder the man had been close to physical and emotional collapse, his entire life had just fallen apart around him. Q probed a little deeper at the captain’s mind, hoping to find something he could justify reassuring the engineer with…but he found nothing, nothing at all. He pulled his attention back to the hilltop. “Charles,” he said gently, even kindly, reaching out on a whim and taking one of the man’s trembling hands. “You couldn’t have known. Eventually your people will have a set of rules to cover first contact situations, but even then things like this will still occur. And the cogenitor’s death is not your fault.”

Instant denial. “It is, I know that for a fact…”

“The facts are what you don’t happen to have all of,” Q corrected. “You recall your little friend saying it would be punished, don’t you? Well, it was – and they went a bit overboard and damaged it too much. Their fault, not yours. Would it surprise you to know that on their planet there has been much controversy regarding the cogenitors because of just this issue? You aren’t the first one to try to do something about them treating a sentient being like an animal.”

Tucker shook his head again. “But I’m not one of their people, I didn’t have the right.”

“No, but that’s never stopped a human before,” Q told him with a slight smirk. “Your history is full of people who didn’t have the right and went ahead anyway, and sometimes it worked out and sometimes it didn’t.” He squeezed the hand he was holding. “I am not saying you shouldn’t feel remorse or even guilt, Charles. Your feelings do you credit, but you’re accepting far too much of the blame for this and it’s going to destroy you if you don’t put the situation in perspective. And speaking of perspective, at the moment your captain’s isn’t exactly where it should be either.”

“He feels responsible, even though he’s not,” Tucker replied mournfully. “I put him in this position, he’s not gonna forgive me for this one.”

“Possibly not.” Actually definitely not, but Q wasn’t going to tell the distraught man in front of him that. Not yet, anyway. “But his guilt is his own business; you don’t have to carry it for him no matter how good of friends you were.”

“Were…yeah, we were.” Tucker sniffed and swiped at his eyes with his free hand as fresh tears welled up. “Lost that too.”

“And gained something else, I believe that is the way it works.” Q smiled at him. “I’m here, Charles; I can be here as long as you need me.”

Another sniff. “Why?”

So much self-loathing in that little word. “Because I like you,” Q answered matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t still be sitting here if I didn’t – or if you were so worthy of contempt as you feel right now.”

Damp blue eyes blinked at him, the hope in them so raw it was painful. “Really?”

Q took the engineer’s other hand, holding the trembling appendages together within his own deliberately warm grasp. He still didn’t understand his reaction to this human, but that wasn’t important to him at the moment. “Really.”

 

They stayed on the hilltop for a long time, first talking and then just sitting, and eventually Tucker fell asleep on the soft grass out of sheer emotional exhaustion. Q sat with him a bit longer and then put him back in the access tunnel where he’d found him. The entity thought a moment and then positioned time to suit his needs and caused a gas leak farther up the tunnel, making sure that the problem could not in any way be blamed on the engineer. As an afterthought, he fixed it so that the leak _could_ be blamed on the two-timing chief of security who’d been utilizing one of the tunnels for something other than maintenance not that long ago. “You simply must be more careful with your genetic material, Lieutenant Reed,” he chuckled. “And with that of your partner as well; now _that_ little collusion is not going to look very nice on your record in light of recent events, is it?” He double checked to make certain the gas would not prove fatal or permanently damaging and then retreated to watch as automatic alarms sounded and drew what little available help there was to the scene.  What happened in the next few hours would dictate his next course of action…and prove one way or the other whether Captain Jonathan Archer really was a lost cause so far as his former friend was concerned.

 

Two days later Q was disgusted with the human race – or at least with two particular members of it. Archer had done his level best to blame the gas leak on a pity-mongering suicide attempt by his chief engineer in spite of clear evidence to the contrary, even in spite of Reed’s flip admittance that he or his partner might have knocked into something in the throes of…mutual exploration. Archer hadn’t even given the unrepentant armory officer a reprimand, nor had he visited Tucker in Sickbay or even evinced much concern for him over the day and a half it took for the engineer to come out of his coma – except for demanding to know when the man would be able to return to his duties as he’d been ‘neglecting them long enough.’

Q was actually starting to wonder if Jonathan Archer had gone insane. He poked around a little more and found out that just before the incident the captain had managed to initiate a sexual encounter with his Vulcan first officer, something he’d been wanting to do almost since she’d come on board the ship, and it looked like the encounter had upset the balance of what had been a carefully controlled case of xenophilia. And the Vulcan knew it, and she was covering for him. Q expanded his disgust to cover her species too; if this was an example of their ‘superior’ logical approach to life then he was surprised they’d managed to get as far as they had.

He checked on the engineer again, making sure that the Denobulan doctor was taking adequate care of him, and then withdrew to make some plans. He’d told Charles that when you lost you also gained, he’d said he’d be around as long as he was needed. And oh, was he ever needed by this man who had just lost so very, very much.

 

It was not quite a week later that Q made his presence known again. He waited until the engineer had staggered into his quarters and simply fallen exhausted onto his unmade bed and then had whisked him back to the sunny green hill. It was evidence of just how far gone the man really was that it took him several long moments to notice the change of scenery. When he did he sat up, barely repressing a groan as aching muscles protested the change in position, and there was Q sitting on the grass with a smile on his face. “Hello, Charles.”

“Q,” Tucker responded. He rubbed his eyes and then looked around. “I thought this was a dream.”

“No more so than the last time,” Q told him, pleased all out of proportion that the man had remembered his name so readily. “Have you eaten yet?”

Tucker shook his head, rubbing his eyes again. “Too tired, just wanted to try to catch some shuteye before my next shift. I can eat tomorrah.”

“No, that will never do,” Q told him. He snapped his fingers and they were suddenly in a lush green forested area, a small sun-dappled pool beside them with an equally small waterfall cascading gently down from the rocky wall that backed it. “Strip off that filthy uniform and clean yourself up a bit – I believe you’ll find the water pleasantly warm – and as soon as you’re finished I’ll see to something for you to eat.”

The engineer just blinked at him. “You’re askin’ me to wash up before dinner?”

“I’m suggesting you bathe in the pool here, rinse yourself off under the waterfall and then come partake of a picnic before you get some sleep,” was Q’s answer. “Come on now, off with the uniform, Charles.”

Tucker was not only too far gone to be surprised, he was also too far gone to argue. He obeyed clumsily and after five minutes of fumbling managed to strip off his clothing and make his way into the pool, where he sank into the warm water with a sigh of pure pleasure. “Oh, nice.”

“Glad you like it.” Q sifted carefully through the ‘public’ areas of the engineer’s mind while he bathed, looking for clues as to what he should feed him. The man’s favorites were out for the moment, too heavy to digest easily, but the particular regional cuisine that they came from…oh, there was plenty of comfort food to work with there, plenty. He chose one to start with and then altered himself enough to be able to taste it; Q’s stint with being human had forced him to develop that little trick, because he’d discovered that he enjoyed some of the benefits of human senses too much to entirely give them up. Eating was one of those.

He wasn’t going to think about the others with a handsome naked man standing under a waterfall not ten feet away – he was here to help Charles Tucker, not seduce him. Under different circumstances he might be considering it, though. He and Vash had parted company quite some time ago and he still missed her at times, but there had been a hardness to her, a mercenary quality that he eventually just hadn’t been able to deal with. The thought almost made him laugh. As much as he complained and picked at the humans he associated with regularly, they were good people and they’d rather spoiled him so far as his taste for human company went. He only wanted the best now.

And Charles Tucker the Third was one of those, whether anyone else appreciated that fact or not. Q watched him carefully without making it look like he was watching him, snapping a warm, soft towel into existence when the engineer made to get out of the pool. Tucker smiled appreciatively as he rubbed himself dry with it and then wrapped it firmly around his waist before coming over to the thick blanket Q was sitting on, taking a seat opposite him. He looked a little more alert now, but still desperately tired all the same. “Double shifts still?” Q inquired sympathetically, even though he knew the answer without asking. “I’d have thought they’d let you have light duty for a while after what happened.”

Tucker smiled ruefully, picking up a second towel that had conveniently appeared beside him and using it to dry his dripping hair. “S’posed to, accordin’ to Phlox,” he said. “Didn’t work out that way, though.” He shrugged. “Just gonna take me a while to get used to doin’ it this way, that’s all. I’ll adjust to the new schedule soon enough – tough part’s gonna be getting’ used to eatin’ the resequenced food all the time since I’m kind of banned from the mess.”

Q had known about that, too, and had thought it a low blow; that kind of restriction wasn’t something Starfleet’s regulations allowed for, the ‘ban’ was a very personal attack on Tucker by a man who knew how much the engineer enjoyed good food. Q allowed himself to smile again and brought the dish he’d chosen into existence in the center of the blanket. “You’ll probably appreciate this, then. I’ve never had it before, so you’ll have to tell me if I’ve gotten it right.”

Tucker sniffed, and then inhaled deeply and returned the smile. “If that’s what I think it is, it sure smells right.”

“If you think it’s sweet potato pudding, then I suppose that answers my question,” Q told him. He produced a bowl and scooped a generous amount of the steaming pudding into it, then presented it to the engineer and filled a second one for himself. An earthenware pitcher appeared and he poured them each a mug of chilled milk as well. Tucker moaned appreciatively after his first bite and then began to eat like he was starving; Q kept his bowl and mug filled until the man slowed down three helpings later. “See, I knew you needed to eat.”

The engineer looked up from where he was carefully scraping the bowl clean with his spoon, and he blushed – all over, Q noted absently. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I consider it a compliment – and you weren’t rude, you were starving,” Q corrected.

Tucker’s blush deepened. “Yeah, but I ate most of it…”

Q laughed. “Oh, that isn’t a problem – I made it for you. I don’t actually _need_ to eat, you see, I just enjoy the experience now and again.”

“You don’t need to…” The engineer took an actual look at his surroundings and his eyes widened. “This isn’t a dream.”

He sounded wondering, not afraid, and Q was pleased. “No, it isn’t.”

“And you’re…” Tucker cocked his head at his companion. “An alien? Or one of those time-traveler people?”

“Neither, actually,” Q answered. “I suppose you would call me an entity – others have, they seem to think it fits. However, I prefer to just be Q.”

“Q,” Tucker repeated. “Why me?”

“Why not?” Q shrugged. “You needed a friend, I looked at the situation and decided you deserved one.” He deliberately adopted the smug expression that drove Picard crazy. “And who else could do the job better than me? The best people deserve only the best assistance, right?”

“The best…” Tucker swallowed. “You think I’m…”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Q informed him, folding his arms across his chest. “And I don’t prolong my association with people who aren’t worthy of it – and I most assuredly don’t _cook_ for someone I don’t like, so there.”

Tucker just looked at him for a minute, and then he burst out laughing; it was the first time he’d laughed since the cogenitor’s death. And Q laughed right along with him, feeling infinitely self-satisfied. Charles Tucker would heal. Maybe not cleanly, maybe not quickly, but his damaged spirit would recover in time. Laughter gave way to tears, and Q moved to the other side of the blanket so he could put a supportive hand on the man’s shoulder, patting reassuringly as the small storm ran its course. He would be there to ensure that it did, he had promised.  

 

Eventually things on board _Enterprise_ straightened themselves out somewhat, largely due to the intercession of the ship’s chief medical officer. Dr. Phlox had had the now-demoted _Lieutenant_ Commander Tucker in for his regular physical two months after the Vissian incident and had immediately gone to the captain and read him the riot act; Q had let what _would_ have been the results of Archer’s treatment of his engineer manifest just before the physical, and the doctor was consequently so angry over Tucker’s condition that he was all but frothing at the mouth. Archer had been a bit shocked too, although he wasn’t sorry and Q hadn’t really expected him to be. And the watching entity had been thoroughly amused when Phlox, who had also noted Archer’s lack of remorse, had reported the captain’s conduct to Starfleet and in doing so won him a reprimand that would hang around for the rest of his career. The trickle-down effect had netted one for Sub-Commander T’Pol as well because she hadn’t reported Archer’s abuse of his authority to anyone, and Q found that even funnier.

He didn’t share his humor with Tucker since the man wasn’t supposed to know about the hot water his physical had put the two senior officers in, but Q did celebrate with him when the schedules were returned to normal and helped him deal with his reticence at the idea of once again interacting with the rest of the crew. “It won’t be the same, it can’t ever be the same,” the engineer told him sadly.

“No, it can’t,” Q agreed carefully, not wanting to give away too much but needing to make sure the man understood the situation. “But I want you to keep something in mind, Charles. These people were your friends, and I believe that had they been given the opportunity at least some of them would have been there for you through all of this…”

“But they had their careers to think about, I know,” Tucker answered, surprising him. He smiled slightly at the look on Q’s face. “You don’t get very far or stick around very long on a ship if you do stuff the captain don’t like, and havin’ anything to do with me was pretty high up his list – probably still is, truth be told. So in a way maybe the past few months were a good thing, because they all got used to me not bein’ around and now it won’t be a problem for them to not interact with me much.”

“It might be more of a problem than you think,” Q was quick to correct him. “They didn’t _want_ to not interact with you, Charles, they were forced not to. And now finding a balance between the two will most likely become a very complicated dance between all of you for a while with your captain calling the tempo.” Tucker didn’t quite flinch, but close enough that Q scooted closer to him and raised one hand to cup his cheek. “I know how hard this is going to be for you, because you missed your friends but you don’t want to see them hurt. I only wish there was a way I could help you.”

“You are already have – I would have gone nuts and done somethin’ stupid months ago if it hadn’t been for you,” Tucker told him, covering the comforting hand with his own. “I just wish there was some way I could return the favor. You do so much for me…”

“Nothing you don’t deserve,” Q assured him.

Tucker blushed and dropped his head, in doing so bringing Q’s palm in contact with his lips. The kiss was spontaneous, almost accidental…but the engineer’s blue eyes flew up to meet Q’s filled with sudden horror. “I…I didn’t…”

Q smiled, surprising him. “You most certainly did, and I’m glad,” he said, stroking his thumb across the man’s cheekbone. Then he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the slightly parted lips, withdrawing just enough to meet those blue eyes again and whisper, “But I knew you had some feelings of being…beholden to me, so I didn’t dare ask for fear of you agreeing out of a misplaced sense of obligation. I’m asking now, though.” He moved his hand, letting his thumb drift across the lips he’d just kissed appreciatively. “Charles Tucker, would you like for our relationship to…advance?”

There was no hesitation in the nod he got in response, and Q swooped in and drank down the verbal affirmative before it could even leave the engineer’s lips. He kept the kiss gentle and undemanding but did his best to put all his affection and admiration into it and was soon rewarded by a hesitant tongue that met his halfway and began a tentative exploration. Q moved his hand to cup the back of Tucker’s head, angling them both so he could deepen the kiss, and temporarily lost the human, feeling part of himself in the sensations they were both experiencing. Such warmth, such sweetness…he finally pulled back, not nearly satiated but knowing his human partner needed to breathe, and was rewarded with a softly protesting moan. Later on they could dispense with such minor considerations, but now was the time to move slowly. “Charles?”

Tucker’s blue eyes blinked back open, filled with a wonder that touched Q on a level he hadn’t known he had. “Is it…is it always like that? For your…people?”

“It’s never been like that for me before,” Q answered honestly. “Something about you, I don’t know what it is.” He stroked the other man’s cheek, traced kiss-swollen lips with his thumb. “You have an effect on me no other human has ever had.”

The engineer cocked his head, and Q saw something he hadn’t seen before – he saw Charles Tucker’s eyes start to twinkle as a small, mischievous smile quirked his lips. “Well if that’s a line,” he said huskily, pulling Q’s head back down for another kiss, “It’s the best one I’ve ever heard – and it’s workin’.”

They explored each other lazily, slowly, taking their time. Q let the other man set the pace, making sure to keep things equal between them; it would have been all too easy for him to find out exactly what Tucker liked and follow through on it, but that also wouldn’t have been fair. And when it came to relationships with humans, Q had learned the hard way that a level playing field mattered quite a bit. So he held himself back and didn’t help, and very quickly discovered that Charles Tucker didn’t need help anyway. The man was apparently very good at more than just his job.

Not that Q was any slouch at what they were doing either, of course. He’d had millennia to perfect his technique, he just had to translate his experience into physical acts. And Tucker proved to be beautifully responsive, every bit as much as Q had suspected he’d be. They whiled away an indefinite amount of time with their intimate explorations then bathed together in the woodland pool, and afterwards the completely sated engineer fell asleep with his head in Q’s lap while the powerful entity played aimlessly with his hair. Q waited until Tucker had woken up before putting him back in his quarters with plenty of time still left for sleeping before his next shift started. Time might not matter when they were together in one of their special places, but it mattered quite a bit on board the _Enterprise_.

 

Over the next few months of _Enterprise_ time Lieutenant Commander Tucker’s relationships with the rest of the crew proceeded in fits and starts and sometimes not at all, but his relationship with Q progressed steadily into increasing levels of intimacy. Q was becoming more and more impressed with his lover; the engineer was painfully careful not to ‘be takin’ advantage’ of the entity’s near-limitless powers, an attitude that was a far cry from the attitude of every other human Q knew. Even Picard, who Q had more respect for than he would ever admit to, sometimes expected – or even demanded – that the entity step into situations for him in the role of deus ex machina. And that, Q knew, was the reason Guinan had been so very upset to see him on board Picard’s _Enterprise_ ; not because she feared he might do harm directly, but because she feared the harm his mere presence in their lives would do to the ship’s captain and crew. And she was exactly right to fear that, of course. Q had to wonder what she’d think of his relationship with Charles…but he tried not to wonder about it too much. He had much more pleasant things to think about.

For example, roleplay was something Q enjoyed – a bit too much, according to certain starship captains – and so he was delighted when Tucker confided one of his fantasies to him. It had been an old entertainment program on Earth that involved a crash-landed astronaut encountering a genie, and Q found the possibilities most intriguing. So he proposed that they give it a try, wheedling his way around his lover’s objections by pouting shamelessly until Tucker gave in.

Trip woke up in what looked like a battered escape pod and the first thing he noticed was that the air was a little thicker than was probably good for him. He kicked at the bent hatch until it gave way and then hauled himself out and dropped onto…a beach? He yanked off the heavy helmet and rested his head on the warm sand, dragging in huge gulps of fresh air. The sound of the surf was soothing in his ears, and a soft breeze ruffled his sweat-soaked hair. Staying right where he was sounded like a very good idea.

Except…the sun was heating up the suit he was wearing very quickly, and the metal rim that secured his helmet was digging into his neck. He sat upright with a groan and blinked against the bright sunlight. White-gold sand, turquoise-blue sea. He turned his head, feeling bruises protest the movement. Palm trees, lush green foliage, bright darts of airborne color that he assumed were tropical birds. An island, maybe? The beach was pristine, the verdant background unbroken by signs of human habitation. Was he alone here? He assumed that if there were others around the pod crash would have drawn them to him, so most likely the island was uninhabited. Trip sighed; he might be here for a while.

He fumbled out of his suit with clumsy fingers and dragged it back into the pod for safekeeping, pitching the helmet in after it and pushing the warped hatch as closed as he dared while still being certain he could get it open again if he needed to. The gray thermal bodysuit he’d been wearing underneath was still too warm for the tropics, but until he’d scouted around a little going naked didn’t seem like a wise idea. He was debating whether or not to leave his thermal socks on when a flash of color in the sand caught his eye and he padded over to investigate. Gold tracery and bright inlay gleamed up at him from beneath a veil of sand and he dropped to one knee and brushed the sand away carefully, uncovering what appeared to be a gracefully made round-bellied bottle with a long tapered neck. He dug down further and unearthed the whole thing, lifting it free of the concealing sand and into the light, his mouth dropping open in wonder; it was completely intact, even to the glass stopper and wax seal, and the design of it was intricate and rich. “Now how did you get here?” he rasped. “Bet you could tell me a story, all right. But you’ll pardon my sayin’ that I’d happily trade you for a full canteen and a workin’ radio right now.” The bottle continued to gleam and he chuckled, brushing sand away from the bejeweled designs and tugging at the stopper. “But of course, if I find some water you’ll make a right useful thing to keep it in, so I’m not complainin’. Now let’s see if there’s anything in here…”

A couple of careful tugs and the stopper came out in his hand…followed by an alarming cloud of sparkling blue smoke. Trip dropped the bottle and backed off in alarm, coughing. The smoke spiraled up and formed a vaguely human outline which quickly solidified into the form of a tall, dark-haired man dressed in flowing silken pants and a heavily embroidered vest, heavy bands of beaten gold gleaming at his wrists and upper arms and accenting smooth, oiled muscles. The man smiled and bowed. “Master, how may I serve you?”

Trip’s eyes widened and he pushed himself to his feet, prepared to run…and immediately felt the unpleasantly familiar dizziness of incipient heatstroke wash over him, blurring his vision and weakening his knees. How long had he been in the crashed pod, anyway? It was the last thought he had before everything grayed out.

_Water_. It touched his lips, trickled into his mouth and from there spread a wash of cool relief through him as he swallowed instinctively. More water followed, and with each sip Trip regained a little more awareness. He was lying on something soft, very soft…the sun wasn’t beating down on him any more…his too-heavy thermal suit was gone…

His thermal suit was gone. And he could feel cool air on his skin… _all_ of his skin. Trip opened his eyes, cautiously. The man was there, bending over him, handsome face a mask of concern. “You are awake, my master,” the man said with evident relief. “The heat of the sun overcame you, so I brought you into my unworthy dwelling.”

Trip glanced around, keeping one wary eye on his host. The room, wherever it was, was rich with hangings and rugs and thick with pillows. No windows or visible door, but overhead what he assumed to be an open skylight let in a glimpse of the hot tropical sun. A small table sat nearby, short-legged in the Eastern floor-sitting style and holding a tray of dried fruits and cheeses as well as a bejeweled carafe and a matching goblet. He sat up slowly, blinking against the lingering dizziness, and scooted further back into the pile of pillows he’d been lying on while trying to surreptitiously pull one of them over himself.

The other man cocked his head in puzzlement, and then his handsome face cleared. “Oh my master, I _am_ sorry,” he apologized, and just that quickly Trip was wearing a pair of loose silken pants. “Please forgive my thoughtlessness.”

“S’okay,” Trip told him. He looked around again. “And I’d have to argue with you about your place, seems to me the only thing it might be unworthy for would be some kind of king or somethin’, and then only if he had some sort of problem to begin with. You live here?”

“I do, my master.” The man bowed from his kneeling position. “I am pleased you like my humble home.”

“Humble is not the word I’d use.” Trip looked around again, wondering if he was actually lying out on the beach or even still trapped in his pod, delirious from heatstroke. “Just one question, though…how do you get in and out?”

“Through the opening at the top of the bottle,” the man answered, bowing again. “And as you removed the seal which prevented me from doing so, you are now my master and your wish is my command.”

Trip just stared at him. Delirious, had to be. He didn’t think he really minded, though – there were worse places he could have imagined. “So we’re…inside the bottle I found on the beach? How long have you been livin’ in here?”

“Not less than three thousand years, my master.” The man bowed again. “I was imprisoned by a prince of Persia, a great worker of magicks who found my services unsatisfactory. I will do all within my power to see that you are not disappointed by me as well.”

“That’s…pretty unlikely,” Trip told him. He sat back into the piled pillows and looked around again. It was a nice place, but awful small for spending three thousand years in. Poor guy…hmm, if he was living in a bottle that must mean he wasn’t just a guy. “So you’re…a genie?” Yet another bow, and Trip nodded. “Okay, I guess this all makes sense in that case. But now that you can get out, don’t you want to…I mean, why are you still in here?”

The genie sat up straight, hands folded in his lap. “You needed to be cared for, my master, and your vehicle was not suitable for that task. If you like, I can create a dwelling more to your liking…”

“No, this is just fine – more than fine, this is a real nice place,” Trip reassured him. “And don’t think I don’t appreciate you takin’ care of me. But after bein’ in here so long, I’d think you wouldn’t want to see the inside of this bottle ever again. Why didn’t you make a place you liked on the outside and move in there?”

The genie’s puzzled look returned for a moment, and then his expression cleared. “Oh,” he explained with a smile. “Master does not understand. This bottle is my dwelling place, I desire no other. And I may only use my powers to benefit my master, not to please my unworthy self.”

“O-kay, but…” Trip sat up again, ignoring the protests of his body. “You’ve got to understand somethin’, though; my people, we don’t believe in slavery. We think it’s horrible, uncivilized, it just ain’t right. Can’t I…let you go or somethin’?”

“It is possible, if you do not wish me to serve you.” The genie didn’t look happy about it, though; in fact, he looked almost…scared? “If that is your desire, you can destroy my bottle and then I will be sent to the void for eternity.”

Trip’s blue eyes widened, and the room greyed out on him again. More water flowing past his lips brought him around, and he found himself looking up into the genie’s worried gaze once more. Trip swallowed and told him, “If those are our only two options, I guess I’ll have to readjust my thinkin’ some.” Swallowing again, he added, “Unless you’d rather…”

“No! No, I prefer to exist, my master,” the genie reassured him quickly. He cocked his head again. “There are those who would not, though. I have lived long, and this I know. Some prefer death to slavery, but the race of the Djinn are not among them.”

“I’m…glad to hear that.” In fact, he was more than glad; Trip felt like those words had loosened something inside him that he hadn’t realized was tight, and the release was pure heaven. He couldn’t quite think of what had been wrong, but he was sure it would come to him later. Right now, though…he just felt so light.

He relaxed deeper into the pillows and let the genie – his genie – give him another drink, and then the cup was taken away and a strong, warm hand came to rest in the center of his chest. “Sleep again, my master,” the other man’s voice suggested warmly. “I shall massage you that you might rest easier, and when you wake perhaps you will want to eat.”

Trip let his eyes slide closed, lassitude spreading through him pleasantly even as he nodded agreement. He felt his genie wipe something away from his eyes, his cheeks, and then one hand became two which began a gentle massage, working from his upper chest to his shoulders, down his arms and back before caressing his ribs and abdomen. The hands stopped at the waistband of the silk pants. “Master, with your permission?”

Trip forced one eye open, saw a hopeful look on his genie’s face and nodded again. “If it’s what you want, then be my guest. But only if you want it too.”

“I very much wish to give you pleasure,” his genie replied, and the silk pants disappeared. The massaging hands stroked down Trip’s hips and thighs, then gently spread his legs further apart on their way back up. Agile fingers carded through the thick, curling hairs at his groin and then one slid lower to cup and roll his tightening balls while the other slipped up his stiffening organ and enclosed it in a just-firm-enough grip. And when a hot mouth enveloped the leaking head Trip arched up into it in spite of himself, groaning again when the mouth rode him and the toying hands began to squeeze in rhythm with his suddenly pounding heart. It was like his body had become the whole world, a world on fire with pleasure…and then he was coming, pouring himself into that welcoming, suckling mouth and surrendering himself to the grip of those tender hands as though he was the one owned…

When Trip woke up again he was nestled in Q’s arms, the two of them cradled by the piled pillows of the genie bottle. He cuddled a little closer into his lover’s embrace with a happy sigh. “Mmm, next time you won’t have to work so hard to get me to give in.” He lifted his head just enough so he could look into Q’s eyes. “We do get to do this again, right?”

“Oh most definitely.” Q smiled down at him, stroking one hand through his hair and down his back. “I enjoyed it immensely, it’s a scenario with…definite possibilities.”

Trip stretched up, kissed him, and then slid back down into his cuddle with another sigh. “Yeah, more than I would have thought.” He let one of his own hands wander aimlessly down along the trail of soft dark hair on his lover’s abdomen. “That was sneaky of you, you know…but I feel better, thanks.”

“You’re most welcome, Charles.” Q kissed the top of his head. “I knew you hadn’t considered that our little game might bring up bad memories for you, because of the similarities to the cogenitor’s situation, but I thought it best to be prepared in case it did. I’m glad I could help.”

“I didn’t know it was still hurtin’ like that, until it stopped,” Trip admitted, letting his hand wander even further down to where the hair – among other things – was thicker. “Don’t suppose you’d like to give it a go from the other end, would you?”

Q’s eyebrows went up. “You’re up for another round already, lover?”

Trip chuckled. “No, but give me a few days and I will be. I’d like to be the genie next time, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Q tightened his loose hold into a hug. “I’m your genie, remember? Your wish is my command.”

 

Three days later, the two of them appeared back on the beach. Trip grimaced up at the blazing tropical sun and swiped at his hair, already feeling the sweat starting underneath the layers of his Starfleet uniform. “Damn that’s hot.” His uniform disappeared, replaced by silk pants, a jeweled vest, golden sandals and two jeweled arm bands. He smiled and stretched, the sun caressing his skin. “Thanks, that’s a lot better.”

“In more ways than one – your uniforms really are hideous compared to what they’ll be in a few hundred years, you know.” Q walked around him, admiring the view; he himself was wearing a pair of the flowing silk pants as well, and a pair of matching sandals, but no vest. “So, where did you want to start Act Two, hmm? We’ll have to make some adjustments if you want to use the crashed capsule…”

“Let’s just pick it up from inside the genie bottle,” Trip told him. “And once we’re there I just want you to lay back and play along, okay? Let me do all the work?”

Q smiled and kissed him. “If that’s what you want, Charles.” He ran a hand over the bulge pushing against the thin silk of his lover’s pants. “Ah, I see that’s exactly what you want.”

“What I want is you,” Trip murmured huskily into his mouth before pulling away. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

“We shall.” Q snapped his fingers for effect and put them inside the genie bottle, getting rid of his own pants in the process and settling himself comfortably in the pillows. Trip fed him water a sip at a time until he ‘woke up’, then prostrated himself in the most beautiful show of obeisance Q had ever seen. Being called ‘Master’ proved very arousing as well. Q, however, was a very different sort of master than the engineer had been; he was not hesitant in the least about accepting the services of his genie.

And Trip was anything but hesitant about providing them. He fed his master fruit, rubbed oil into his skin, and obligingly gave him sips of wine from his own mouth when the cup proved unsatisfactory. After that Q magnanimously asked his genie what he would like, and acquiesced when Trip said he would like to give his master pleasure.

The firm, slow massage against his oiled skin made Q melt into the pillows, but when skilled fingers trailed down his inner thighs and over his testicles he gasped in surprise, and gasped again when an equally talented tongue followed their lead and lapped at the firming sacs. Then the tongue moved up, trailing along the underside of his already straining hardness to lap again at the leaking slit before firm lips closed over the head and began to slowly descend, taking him in one moist centimeter at a time while tongue and teeth teased the sensitive flesh almost unbearably. And once he was fully seated inside that pleasurable cavern, his ‘genie’ swallowed hard. Q’s hips bucked against restraining hands and were pinned down even more firmly as Trip swallowed again. The third time undid him and he came so hard he saw stars and almost lost his hold on his human form, only distantly feeling his lover suckling on him to withdraw every drop he had to offer before releasing his softening member with an almost obscene slurping sound and sliding back up his trembling body to lick away the sweat that was pouring off of him. Q regained control of his arms and pulled Trip the rest of the way up, drawing his head down for a deep, possessive kiss, tasting his own essence on the mobile tongue and reveling in the groan that emerged from deep in his lover’s chest. But when his own hand snaked downward, instead of a second hardness straining through the thin barrier of cloth he found instead softness and a damp, sticky spot. Trip chuckled softly when he felt the seeking hand and snuggled down into Q’s chest with a contented sigh. “I came when you did, it was just so good I couldn’t hold back.”

Q’s arms came around him, holding him close, the wandering hand trailing up the sweating back to tangle in damp hair. “I would have to agree with you there – and I am infinitely flattered, lover. Now rest, and just let me hold you for a while.”

“Mmm, sounds good to me.” Trip let himself sink into the warm, possessive hold and from there into sweet oblivion, but he was jarred from sleep by a harsh, demanding buzz. He sat up, saw that he was back in his quarters on Enterprise and that according to the chrono the buzz at the door was probably Reed come to get him for breakfast, and he hauled himself out of bed. “C’mon in, Malcolm, I overslept a bit.” The door slid open and the armory officer was indeed standing there, looking slightly put out. “Oh now stop that, I’ll be ready in two shakes.”

“What happened, had a dream to good to let go of?” Reed asked, closing the door behind him…and then he stopped, and one eyebrow rose. Tucker looked…fucked, very _well_ fucked, and even though there was no smell of it in the room and no sign of activity in the bed he knew that look couldn’t be faked. He leaned against the bulkhead and folded his arms across his chest, smiling slightly. “Or perhaps you just got back from…someplace else?”

“Huh? Nah, I just overslept.” Tucker was ignoring him, pulling on his clothes, and the armory officer couldn’t help but admire the view that was being far too quickly concealed beneath the uniform. “And there ain’t no place to go on board this ship, you know that as well as I do.”

“True.” Reed’s smile deepened and a hunting glint appeared in his gray eyes; he loved a challenge, and he’d have fun solving the mystery of who Tucker was sleeping with on board – not as much fun as he’d be having missing breakfast if the man was also willing to sleep with _him_ , however. It had been a while since they’d been together, he wondered if Tucker was willing to share the wealth a bit again now that he understood the rules of the game? “I don’t suppose you’d like to get a little…exercise before breakfast, would you, Lieutenant Commander? Or perhaps in place of it?”

Tucker froze, loose muscles stiffening as he slowly straightened and pulled up the zipper to close his uniform coverall; unbeknownst to him, someone else whose presence he wasn’t aware of had frozen as well, waiting to hear his answer. He turned around and fixed cool blue eyes on the smirking armory officer. “I think we’ll just pretend you didn’t make that suggestion, _Lieutenant_ ,” he said evenly. “Now I’ve already looked over the upgrades you’re wantin’ to do, so why don’t you fill me in on what you’ll need from Engineerin’ to get them done while we head down to the mess.”

“Certainly, if that’s what you want.” Reed shrugged indifferently; an impromptu sexual encounter would have been a nice diversion but he hadn’t been emotionally invested in the engineer’s answer. His anticipation of the hunt for Tucker’s lover ratcheted up a notch, though, and he wondered if whoever it was might be interested in sharing some playtime with him as well when the lieutenant commander was otherwise occupied with his engines.

The armory officer did not hear the disgusted growl that was the unseen watcher’s response to his thoughts. Q turned away from the situation understanding for the first time what it meant when humans said they wanted to be sick. He was certainly wishing he could be.

 

Over the weeks and then months that followed they explored variations on the same theme, trying out scenarios where an evil genie kept the stranded human chained as a sex slave, but as much as Trip enjoyed being on the receiving end – and Q was amazed and humbled by the amount of trust his lover placed in him – every time the engineer tried to portray the evil genie himself the roleplay invariably degenerated into a tickle fight amid the pillows. Not that Q could say anything: his evil genie routinely took pity on his human captive after the first round of ‘torture’ and decided he was worthy of being pleasured to death instead. Which in turn would become yet another tickle fight accompanied by some creative and definitely non-sadistic use of the genie’s torture devices.

They’d even tried it as female genies once. That had been Q’s suggestion, and after he’d assured Tucker that the change would be natural but only temporary his lover had been ready to try it. And he’d made a lovely woman, fine-boned and gracefully curvaceous with a generous bustline and hair like a stream of warm honey. The engineer had enjoyed it but had been impatient for it to be Q’s turn – Q had gotten the definite impression that his lover wanted to display his prowess at pleasuring a female body. But the first form Q tried had Tucker cocking his head at him and making a face. “Okay, I don’t know who that is but I know it’s somebody. I want _you_ as a woman.”

Q had been deeply flattered that his lover would demand the real thing – and impressed that Tucker knew him well enough to tell that Beverly Crusher _wasn’t_ the real thing. His ‘natural’ female form was a tall woman with a rather more athletic build than Tucker’s had been, and he’d had to admit afterwards that the man’s desire to show off his…skill had been well-founded; Q couldn’t imagine any woman having _that_ at her beck and call and willingly giving it up. Although he was rather glad they all had, because Tucker was the committed type and Q himself wasn’t one to share.

As much fun as they were having, though, eventually the roleplay stopped. At first that worried Q, but Tucker was just as interested and every bit as passionate; he just seemed less interested in elaborate games and more content for them to wallow around in the pillows together or sit on the pristine white beach and play in the warm surf. The sex was still frequent and amazing, but the engineer also seemed more and more interested in just talking and Q found that their conversations satisfied him in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced before.

And…he’d started needing that connection. It had crept up on him so gradually that by the time he realized the extent of his dependency on Tucker it came as rather a shock. Why, just the week before he’d found himself popping in on the man at work – and not for sex, either.

Tucker had been pleased to see him but had apologized because he was right in the middle of some complicated repairs; Q’s raised eyebrow got him to confess that he was significantly upgrading the damaged systems at the same time. Tucker had perked right up, however, when Q had asked if he might stick around and watch; the flood of emotion that crossed the engineer’s face and lit up those beautiful blue eyes was like nothing he’d ever seen – and something he definitely wanted to see again.

Q had learned, over the course of experience if not time, that humans liked to do things for themselves – and he knew his Charles well enough to know that ‘magicking’ the man’s precious engines would not be well received. So one of the most powerful beings in the universe settled himself in beside his human lover and passed tools and components when they were required, watching the man work and admiring the intense expression of concentration on the handsome face as he did. Very little conversation passed between them, but the silence was comfortable and Q found himself appreciating it in a way he wouldn’t have thought he would, considering how much he enjoyed the sound of the engineer’s voice. It had been a pleasant afternoon, and it gave him a warm feeling just thinking about it.

And that confused Q even more. He’d been thinking it over on his own to no avail, and finally he came to the conclusion that he needed to ask someone for...advice. And there was only one person in the universe he trusted that much.

 

Picard didn’t look up from what he was doing when the flash of light appeared in his ready room. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he asked with weary sarcasm. “If you’re just socializing you might want to seek out Commander Riker, I believe he’s off duty right now.”

“Ah, someone’s in trouble with the boss,” Q countered, but without his usual enthusiasm. “Wenching again, was he? The bastard.”

_That_ got Picard’s attention; there had been a bitter undertone in the powerful entity’s voice that he’d never heard before. He gestured for Q to take a seat and was surprised again when the being dropped into the chair opposite almost immediately. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, I believe there is.” Q was staring at the ceiling now, not at the puzzled captain. “I need…advice, and I thought you would be the right person to get it from. I believe I have developed…feelings for someone.”

Picard got a feeling of his own – a bad one. “Not Commander Riker, I hope?” he asked tentatively.

“Oh good God no!” Q dropped his eyes to the frowning captain and scowled. “It was a scoundrel like that who hurt him to begin with – although I should probably thank the slutty little British bastard since that’s part of what drew me to Charles in the first place.” His expression softened. “I heard him, you see,” he confided. “I still don’t know why, but I picked up on the pain he was in and went to find out what was going on. He thought he was dreaming, and I let him think that for a while…”

“But you did tell him the truth?” Picard questioned suspiciously.

“Yes. I couldn’t lie to him.” Q missed the expression of complete surprise that flitted across the captain’s face at that matter-of-fact comment. “He took it in stride, much better than I ever would have expected anyone to. And he’s never taken advantage, or even tried to.” He fixed Picard with a piercing and yet very confused look. “Last week I actually just sat with him while he worked, handing him things. We hardly spoke to each other but it felt…right, for some reason. It was nice just being with him.”

Picard nodded slowly. “I’m surprised you don’t have him with you now, then.”

Q shook his head. “He loves his work, I couldn’t ask him to give that up.”

The captain’s eyebrows climbed skyward. “And yet…you want to be with him as often as possible?”

“All the time,” the other man confirmed. “I simply can’t get enough of him. And before you ask, Jean Luc, he’s apparently just as contented as I am; I’ve been keeping up with his captain’s personal logs, the man says he’s never seen Charles so happy.” He snorted; those log entries weren’t exactly complimentary to his lover, but he wasn’t going to go into that. “Another bastard – at least the first one didn’t claim to be his friend.”

Picard got worried again; the uncharacteristic bitterness was back. “So this Charles of yours is a member of Starfleet, is he?” he probed.

“Was, from your temporal perspective,” Q corrected. He rolled his eyes at Picard. “Oh don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything to Archer or Reed – Charles would never forgive me, because he already forgave one of them and never held it against the other to begin with.”

The captain of the Enterprise 1701-D stood up, staring at him. Temporal perspective… “ _Jonathan_ Archer?”

“Yes, that would be him.” Q snorted again. “I think he gives the lie to the saying that the first is always the best – your history has been kinder to him than he deserves, in my opinion.”

“Because he hurt your...lover.” It didn’t come out as a question; the picture was becoming clearer and clearer to Picard with every word Q spoke. He circled around the desk, cautiously. “You wish you could protect him from everything.”

“I wish I could, but as he puts it ‘gettin’ hurt is part of bein’ human.’” Picard’s eyebrows went up again at the imitation – an affectionate one, not the sharp sarcasm he was used to from Q. “He positively revels in being human, in being alive. I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone like him before.”

“Coming from you that is high praise indeed,” Picard observed. “You’ll forgive me a rather…intimate question, but I feel it may be important to what you’re asking me in this rather roundabout manner. Are the…physical relations between the two of you on an equal footing, or are you always…on top, so to speak?”

Q bolted to his feet, offended and…blushing? Picard hid a smile. “Of course I’m not always…what sort of thing is that to accuse someone of!”

“You know as well as I do that many relationships are one-sided in that way – and I wasn’t accusing you, merely asking.” Picard decided the best approach was to treat Q as though he was the unsure younger man he appeared to be instead of the powerful entity he actually was. He put a fatherly hand on Q’s shoulder. “It appears to me, my complicated friend, that you have fallen in love.”

“Love?” Q didn’t shake off the hand; he looked stunned. “This is…love?”

“The very best kind, from your account of the situation,” Picard assured him. He allowed the smile to blossom forth this time, and patted the other man’s shoulder before releasing it. “Congratulations are in order, I believe. Would you care to share a drink with me to celebrate?”

Q blinked. “That is very kind of you – I would, yes. Perhaps…the both of us?”

“I would be honored to meet the man who awakened this precious gift in you,” was Picard’s answer. “Although perhaps we should arrange to do that somewhere other than the _Enterprise_.”

That produced a fond smile and a chuckle. “Oh, that goes without saying – if Charles ever got into your engine room we’d have the devil’s own time trying to get him back out. I think that…” He stopped suddenly, all the humor fading from his face to be replaced by a look of absolute horror. “CHARLES, NO!”

The yell and subsequent flash made Picard flinch, and then he was once again alone in the room. He was still processing what had happened when Lieutenant Worf burst in. “Captain! I heard…”

“That was Q, not me,” Picard assured him. “Everything is all right, Mr. Worf. Stand down.”

The Klingon holstered his weapon, but he didn’t look convinced. “Are you certain everything is all right, sir? Q is…treacherous. He is not to be trusted.”

Picard frowned, although not at him. “So I though as well, Mr. Worf,” he said thoughtfully. “So I thought as well.”  

 

It had all happened so fast. They’d been on the planet for hours and the away team had split apart to take samples with not even ultra-paranoid Reed anticipating trouble when Tucker’s panicked voice had crackled out of the captain’s communicator; he’d been captured by natives – natives their sensors hadn’t even registered – and they were dragging him off to someplace he thought he’d probably rather not go since they seemed to think he was an enemy. He’d managed to communicate the direction they were dragging him in and the fact that the universal translator couldn’t make heads or tails of their language before his captors took the communicator away from him and apparently destroyed it, and then the chase had been on. The away team had caught up to the natives at the edge of a cliff…just in time to see the unthinkable happen.

Jonathan Archer knew he would be hearing Tucker’s scream ring in his ears for the rest of his life. And then there was a flash, and…nothing. No falling body, no more scream. Just nothing. “Captain,” T’Pol said, frowning. “Lieutenant Commander Tucker is gone. Sensors show no trace of him.”

“I can see that.” Relief hadn’t come yet, Archer was still frozen with shock. “There was a flash of light…”

“And then he was gone,” Reed finished for him. The armory officer looked shaken himself. “Could it have been a transporter?”

“Not one of ours,” T’Pol stated with certainty. “ _Enterprise_ was unaware of the situation, and there are no other ships in the area.”

Archer sighed explosively. “Well, we’d better start looking around for someone who was aware, then,” he said, gesturing at the small knot of natives. “Maybe they can tell us something. Trip has to be somewhere, let’s just hope it’s someplace safe.”  

 

Dr. Phlox was startled when a tall, dark-haired man suddenly appeared in the middle of Sickbay bearing the limp body of Lieutenant Commander Tucker in his arms. The man’s dark eyes were snapping, and he was radiating anger so intense it was palpable. He pushed past the doctor and laid the engineer on the nearest biobed with infinite care. “He’s in shock, fix it,” the man barked.

Phlox grabbed a hypospray and hurried to the other side of the bed, taking in the readings overhead with a quick, practiced eye. “Very deeply in shock,” he concurred, setting the dosage and then pressing the spray to the side of the unconscious man’s neck. His eyes returned to the monitor. “It may take a few moments for the medication to take effect. What happened?”

“He was pushed off a cliff,” the dark man ground out, but out of the corner of his eye Phlox noted that the strong hand stroking Tucker’s hair back from his forehead was trembling. “I almost didn’t reach him in time.”

“As the lieutenant commander would say, almost only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades and warp core breaches,” Phlox told him.

The man smiled. “Yes, he would say that, wouldn’t he?”

Underneath the simmering overlay of anger his tone was affectionate, even proprietary. Phlox raised an eyebrow. “If I might ask, how do you know Lieutenant Commander Tucker?” he probed cautiously. “I don’t recall ever having seen you before.”

“You haven’t.” The man glanced up. “Just a thought, but you might want to contact your captain on the planet and inform him of his chief engineer’s whereabouts.”

“A very good idea.” The doctor was reluctant to move away from either his patient or the mysterious newcomer, but if he was being given a chance to inform the captain of the situation he thought he had probably better take it. He kept his eyes on the two men while he activated the com, though. “Ensign Sato, please patch me through to Captain Archer at once.”

Hoshi’s affirmative was followed almost immediately by a crackle of static and then the captain’s worried voice snapped, “Archer here, what is it, Doctor?”

Tucker’s eyelids were fluttering and the dark man leaned over him, murmuring soft reassurances. “Are you by chance missing Lieutenant Commander Tucker, Captain?” Phlox asked. “Because he was brought to Sickbay just a few moments ago.”

“Trip is back on _Enterprise_?!” Phlox could hear the rest of the away team in the background reacting to that. “What do you mean ‘brought’? Who brought him and from where?”

“The individual is unknown to me, Captain, but he apparently knows the lieutenant commander rather well.” Tucker was smiling drowsily up at the man now, and he reached up to pull the dark head down for a kiss. “Make that very well,” Phlox amended. “And as to where they came from, the lieutenant commander’s…companion informed me that Mr. Tucker had just been pushed off a cliff. He appeared to be quite upset about the situation.”

“I think we’re all with him there,” Archer sighed. “Is Trip all right? And does this…companion of his have a name?”

“The lieutenant commander is suffering from shock, but he will be fine. And as to the other…” The kiss was still going on, a gentle but thorough reassurance between the two men. “As soon as an opportunity presents itself I will be sure to ask one of them for more information.”

There was silence at the other end of the connection, presumably while Archer processed his answer and what it might mean. Then he said, “We’re returning to _Enterprise_. If you can, keep them both there in Sickbay. Someone needs to explain to me just what the hell is going on around here and why a man who should be dead at the bottom of a cliff right now is suddenly in Sickbay and…‘occupied’.”

There was a bit of a snarl in the captain’s voice, and it brought the dark man’s head up with a snap. Another flash, and Archer was standing in the middle of Sickbay with his communicator in his hand and a very surprised expression on his face. Phlox hit the com panel again. “Ensign Sato, please inform the landing party that Captain Archer is back on board _Enterprise_. Phlox out.” He sighed. “I would introduce you, sir, but I don’t know your name.”

“Q,” was the answer, but those hard eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Archer. “ ‘Should be’, Captain Archer?”

Archer started to open his mouth, but before he could answer Tucker was patting the man’s arm and trying to push himself up onto his elbows. “You know he didn’t mean it that way.”

“Yes, I do,” the man admitted implacably. “But I still didn’t appreciate it.” He gave Archer one more hard look and then returned his attention to the engineer, pushing him flat again gently but firmly. “When your head stops spinning, then you can sit up.”

Tucker just smiled at him, giving way gracefully. “You peeked, that’s cheatin’,” he said. “I’m fine, just a bit shook up. ‘Preciate the rescue, by the way.”

“Next time call for _help_ , not to say goodbye,” Q scolded. “If I had years on my life this would have taken about a hundred of them off of it, lover.”

“I’m sorry.” The engineer raised one hand and caressed his cheek. “I told you before, though, I won’t ask you to interfere.”

“Saving your life is not interfering,” the other man countered. He leaned in close again, stealing another kiss. “And even if it was, that wouldn’t stop me.”

“Would someone mind telling me just what the hell is going on here!” Archer demanded. Q murmured something against Tucker’s lips that made the other man laugh breathlessly, and the captain rolled his eyes. “Lieutenant Commander Tucker, you are about three seconds from being relieved of your position in Starfleet. Now report!”

It was a mistake on many levels, understandable considering the circumstances but a mistake all the same. Tucker sucked in a shocked, strangled breath and the monitors connected to the biobed shrilled a warning; Phlox was across the room in an instant, sparing an irritated frown for his captain before focusing his full attention on the gasping engineer. The hypo he’d quickly snatched up again hissed, loud in the startled silence that had filled the room. “Mr… _Charles_ , I want you to take a deep breath and hold it for me…close your eyes, that’s right. Now let it out slowly, very slowly…good. You should be feeling rather sleepy right now, don’t fight it, let the drug do its job.”

Tucker shook his head, but despite making an obvious effort to reopen his eyes his breathing almost immediately evened out into the gentle cadence of sleep. “Sleep well, love,” Q whispered, stroking his hair again. “It will all be all right, I promise.” He straightened slowly and turned a look on Archer that made the shocked captain take a step back. “Feel better now?” he hissed icily.

Archer hauled his anger back up to the fore. “Just who the hell are you and what have you been doing with Trip?” he demanded.

“Oh _now_ you get protective.” But Q wasn’t really interested in fighting with the man, not at the moment anyway. “The phrase ‘too little too late’ comes to mind for some reason. And I already told you who I am.”

“You said your name was ‘Q’,” Archer agreed tightly. “And you’re apparently involved in some sort of sexual relationship with my chief engineer. But that doesn’t tell me who or what you are or what you’re doing here. Or what you want.”

Q shrugged. “It does, in a sense,” he tossed back. “Q is who and what I am, and obviously I was here to save Charles – whom I do happen to want, which is why I rushed to his rescue in spite of the fact that he didn’t ask me to.”

“That surprises me,” Archer snorted acidly. “I’m guessing from what I just saw that he’s been paying for the service.”

Q just looked at him – or rather, through him – for a moment, then shook his head in disgust and went back to the biobed where he carefully scooped his lover up in his arms, cradling him like a sleeping child. Archer stared himself at the ease with which the other man held Tucker, the engineer not being a small man by any means. But he shook off his surprise when Q began to move purposefully toward the door. “Where do you think you’re taking him?!”

“To his quarters,” Q snapped back. “He’d rather wake up there than here, and he’ll be more comfortable in his own bed.” He looked back to Phlox, who didn’t appear disturbed in the slightest. “How long until what you gave him wears off?”

“Several hours at least,” Phlox told him. “You plan to stay with him, I take it?”

“I wouldn’t let him wake up alone after this,” Q huffed, shooting a dirty look at Archer. “You and I will talk later.”

Archer spluttered impotently when Q marched past him but didn’t try to do anything; possibly, he realized that spluttering was about all he could do to an entity who could appear and disappear at will. Q just ignored him. He walked around the corner…and then vanished and reappeared in Tucker’s quarters. He wouldn’t have even bothered to walk out of Sickbay if he hadn’t known that disappearing would have set Archer looking for him. And he didn’t particularly want to be disturbed right now. He gently lay his unconscious lover down on his narrow bed and took a good look at him. “In love,” he murmured softly. “So this is what humans make all the fuss about, is it? I believe I understand now. And there are a few individuals I perhaps owe a bit of an apology to – I’m sure you can help me think of ways to make things up to them, I’m sure you’d even enjoy it.” He ran his fingers through Tucker’s hair and then removed the man’s torn and dirty uniform coverall with a thought. Q could have cleaned him up the same way, but that was something he wanted to do himself. He got water and a soft cloth and took his time, enjoying the feel of the warm, living flesh under his hands, and once he was finally done he redressed his lover in a pair of the loose silken pants they normally wore for lounging around on their island. “I think you’ll be comfortable now,” he said, pulling up the blankets and frowning at how rough they felt. “Oh this won’t do at all – why didn’t you tell me?” He quickly exchanged them for more of their luxurious nest from the genie bottle and then smiled as he tucked the engineer in. “Much better. Now you’re going to stay asleep while I go have a chat with that doctor of yours, and I’m going to seal this cabin so that perverted slut of an armory officer can’t get in while I’m gone.”

He pressed a kiss to Tucker’s forehead and then flashed out of the room, reappearing back in Sickbay. Phlox didn’t appear surprised to see him. “Q,” he said. “I take it you got the lieutenant commander settled?”

Q nodded. “And I’m guessing you had a few words for that captain of yours in my absence.”

The Denobulan smiled slightly. “Let’s just say he wasn’t inclined to linger – but don’t infer that to mean my scolding did any good.” He cocked his head at the other man. “But I’m guessing you are aware of the situation already, aren’t you?”

“Quite, Doctor – I’ve been here since it started.” Q arched an eyebrow at him. “And I’m sure you’re aware that your captain might be better suited to, say, scrubbing pots in the galley?”

Phlox chuckled. “Oh, Captain Archer actually isn’t all that bad – as long as there are no aliens around, that is. He was simply promoted beyond the level of his abilities and now we have to live with the consequences.” His smile took on a slyly amused tilt. “As a matter of fact, if one knows how to subtly direct his xenophilic tendencies they can come quite in handy. You, for example: he may not like the fact that you have apparently taken up company with Lieutenant Commander Tucker, but you are still an alien and therefore an object of…fascination to him.”

Q wasn’t sure whether he should like the Denobulan doctor or be afraid of what he might be getting up to unsupervised on this primitive little ship with its lunatic captain. Something to poke his nose into later, perhaps. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting I play your captain for the fool that he is, Doctor?”

“I’d say you’re a fool if you don’t, Q. I’m not saying things will be any easier for your lover if you confront the captain with a show of power, but it might keep Mr. Tucker’s situation on board ship from becoming any harder.” The Denobulan twinkled at him and then wandered across the room to fuss with an animal cage. Somehow it didn’t surprise Q in the slightest that the doctor had turned his back on him, something most people who encountered him just didn’t do. “You should go now. Captain Archer will be alone in his ready room, and you definitely want to get to him before Sub-Commander T’Pol and Lieutenant Reed get back – he becomes much more difficult to deal with when they’re around, trying to maintain his dignity.”

Hmm, turned his back _and_ dismissed him without a backward glance; Q decided he was definitely going to have to keep a closer eye on this one. He didn’t bother to acknowledge the advice verbally, just blinked out and appeared in Archer’s ready room dressed as a Starfleet Admiral. “Well, Captain Archer, I believe you wanted to talk to me?”

Archer started violently. “How did you…can you just appear like that anyplace you want?”

Q shrugged. “Yes, quite. Much more convenient than walking, I’ve found. Next question?”

He hid a smirk when Archer took that one without even noticing it was there. “How long have you been on my ship?”

“How long, hmm?” Q made a show of pulling an old-fashioned pocket watch out of thin air and consulting it. “Less than two hours now, I believe.” He snapped the watch closed and it turned into a bird and flew through the window and out into space. “I believe your next question has to do with my sex life, and the answer is ‘none of your business’. Anything else?”

The look on Archer’s face said he couldn’t think of anything intelligent to ask, so instead he blurted out, “What are you?”

The entity shrugged again. “I’m a Q – an entity, if you prefer, but I don’t so I don’t normally answer to it. Just doesn’t have the right ring to it, you know.”

Archer’s eyes narrowed. “Are there more of you? And do you have anything to do with the Temporal War? Whose side are you on?”

“Oh please, even you don’t have anything to do with the so-called Temporal War, it’s all a game and you’re a piece not a player,” Q said, rolling his eyes again. “In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret: a hundred years from now no one will even know what you’re talking about if you were to bring it up. And if the real Travelers ever catch up with your Mr. Daniels he’s going to be in very hot water.”

“There are more time travelers?”

Q waved the eager question off. “Not here in your time, not yet. And that isn’t your concern anyway, right? I thought you were wanting to know all about _me_.”

Archer frowned. “I want to know why you’re here, you still haven’t told me. Or why out of all the people on this ship you hooked up with Trip…”

“Instead of hooking up with _you_?” Q snorted. “Oh please, Captain. Isn’t your first officer enough for you? Or should I ask her, I can hear she and your lieutenant approaching the door…”

“They’re already back?” Archer’s demeanor changed in an instant. “I’ll put Hoshi on report for this, she should have informed me the shuttle had docked and they were headed over here.”

“Oh she did call when the shuttle arrived, and you told her to relay the message that the two of them should come straight to your ready room,” Q smirked. “At the rate they’re approaching, they should be here in the next five seconds, give or take.”

Archer felt something stir the hair on top of his head and when he put his hand up to investigate he found a pair of small horns growing out of his skull and lashed his tail in irritation. “Did you do this?” he demanded. It was then that he realized he shouldn’t have a tail to lash and his expression grew even darker. “ _And_ this?”

“Oh, they suit you,” Q told him patronizingly. “I know I can’t be the first to think you deserve them, either. Your officers are here, perhaps we should ask their opinion?”

Archer experienced a flash of panic; he barely had a leash on Reed as it was, seeing him like this would doubtless sever whatever thin strand of respect still kept the armory officer in check. And he didn’t want to think about T’Pol’s reaction – or the report she’d make to the Vulcan High Command. Not to mention that he’d probably never get her in his bed again. He stiffened, straightened. Maybe if he projected some dignity, acted like nothing was wrong…the door hissing open coincided with a sharp, sucking pain in his head and at the base of his spine, and he was wincing when his officers walked in. Reed’s smirk almost made him wince again. Great, just great – but at least the horns were gone. “Captain,” T’Pol said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Archer answered – too quickly, and saw Reed’s smirk grow slightly. He gestured irritably at the man beside him. “This is Q, he’s the one who saved Trip and brought me back aboard earlier.”

“I’d say it’s a pleasure, but I _do_ so hate to lie,” Q told them. “I assume you have some questions for me too?”

T’Pol had carefully eased out her tricorder and was frowning at the readings. “You appear to be human, but that is not possible under the circumstances. What are you?”

“An entity – a Q,” he answered. He cocked an eyebrow back at her. “And don’t ask to see my true form, you aren’t equipped for it. This is the human version of me and it’s always been more than sufficient.”

“Just how real is the ‘human version’ of you?” Reed wanted to know, innuendo warring with paranoia in his face and voice. “Can this form you’re wearing be harmed?”

“You can’t kill me, Lieutenant,” Q told him, sounding bored. A hard sparkle appeared in his eyes, though. “And if you attempt to ask Charles the other question you’re thinking of, I’ll see to it that the correspondingly ‘real’ part of your anatomy never moves again, do we understand each other?”

Reed turned slightly pale and nodded. Archer rolled his eyes. “So you can read our minds, Q?”

“Unfortunately,” Q drawled, watching Reed surreptitiously adjust himself with a slight smirk. “I do try to avoid it, just talking with you is bad enough. Now now, Mr. Reed, if you do that more than once you’re just playing with it – and you do plenty of that as it is, I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen off yet from overuse.” He laughed when T’Pol turned a coolly arched eyebrow on the embarrassed armory officer. “And in front of two superior officers too, Lieutenant, how kinky.”

Reed stiffened, turning even brighter red, and Archer rolled his eyes. “Dismissed, Lieutenant,” he sighed. Inwardly he was relieved, though. One down. “T’Pol…”

“Oh let her stay, Captain,” Q told him as Reed beat a hasty retreat from the room. “I’m sure she has more questions to ask me, don’t you, Sub Commander?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here because Charles is here,” Q answered her. He circled around the desk, plopped into Archer’s chair and put his feet up. “Anything else?”

“That is illogical.” T’Pol ignored the irritated look her captain was giving the entity; the captain was illogical too. “You are observably a powerful being, the idea that you would appear here simply to satiate a sexual urge is ridiculous. What do you want from us?”

“Listen to her, ‘satiate a sexual urge’,” Q snorted. “Poor Captain Archer, is that the reason she gave you last year? Romance really is dead.”

T’Pol looked at Archer, and then at the floor. Archer could have sworn he saw the tips of her ears turn green and that made him feel even better; he might have another shot there after all. “I don’t believe you either,” he told Q. “You can’t just be here because of Trip. Why did you come here in the first place?”

“None of your business.” Q told him. He was suddenly standing right in front of Archer, looking down at him in more ways than one. “When I’m done here I’ll leave, not before. But don’t worry, I’m not here to interfere with you or your little ship. If I had, you would certainly know by now, since I’ve been here nearly a year already.”

“A _year_?” Q waited to see if Archer would count back and figure out what that meant, but he didn’t. “You’ve been on my ship for a _year_?”

“Oh no, never that.” Q reappeared sitting on the corner of the desk. “I wouldn’t be on your ship now if Charles hadn’t needed me. But he did, so I am. And speaking of Charles, I need to be getting back to him now. So if you don’t have any more questions…”

“About a million,” Archer said – but he didn’t try to say Q couldn’t leave, either. Q supposed he knew it wouldn’t do any good and just didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the Vulcan again. “How long are you going to stay?”

Q shrugged. “Until Charles wakes up and I’m certain he’s feeling all right.” He stood up, making sure he looked imposing. “And I guarantee you, Captain, if you attempt to interrogate him about me or punish him for our relationship…you will not like the result.”

Archer felt two sharp needles of pain on his head, right where the horns had been, and he winced. And in that wince, Q disappeared completely. “Captain, did the entity harm you?” T’Pol wanted to know.

“No.” Archer rubbed his head, feeling two small bumps under his hair that hadn’t been there before. At least they weren’t visible. “He just…reminded me. I don’t suppose the Vulcans have ever encountered anything like this, have they?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she told him. “What are you going to do, Captain?”

Archer had known she would ask him that question, but he’d been wishing she wouldn’t because of the answer he was going to have to give. “Nothing,” he said with a sigh. “There’s nothing we can do, except keep a closer eye on Trip.”

 

Q was doing just that. He’d flashed back into his lover’s room and sat down next to him on the narrow bed, ending up holding Tucker in his arms, cradled against his chest. He’d changed out of his admiral’s uniform into his own silken pants, and he stroked his lover’s hair softly. “Charles,” he murmured. “Come back to me, love.”

It took a while, but the blue eyes finally fluttered open. Tucker looked around his quarters with some surprise. “I was in Sickbay…”

“And now you’re in your room. I thought you’d be more comfortable here and that odd doctor of yours agreed with me.” Q shifted his hold. “I made a few changes for your comfort, I hope you don’t mind.”

Tucker fingered the silken sheets and smiled. “Nah, I don’t mind. You’ll have to take these with you when you go, though; wouldn’t do to have anyone see them in here.”

“Hmm, you may be right.” Q was smiling, though. “All right, how about this?”

The bed was abruptly back to normal…but when Tucker ran his hand over the sheets, instead of synthetic he felt silk. He smiled too. “That’s cheatin’.”

“I don’t hear you complaining.” Q shifted them around so he could see his lover’s face. “How are you feeling? Better?”

“Yeah, better.” Tucker cuddled further into his hold, though. “Still feel a little shaky, but it’ll pass. I’ll go down to the mess later…”

“No, you won’t.” A tray appeared across Q’s lap with a steaming mug and an assortment of cut-up fruit on it. “Chicken soup should do the trick.”

Tucker picked up the mug, and Q steadied his hands while he drank. The entity slapped his hands away from the fruit, though, and proceeded to feed it to him piece by piece until he’d had enough. The tray disappeared then, but the fruit still remaining reappeared in a dish on the table beside the bed. “Mmm, that did do the trick,” Tucker murmured drowsily, snuggling up to him again. “Thank you, Q.”

“It was my pleasure.” Q started stroking his hair again. “Charles…I’ve had something on my mind lately, but I didn’t know what it was. Now I do, though.” He took a deep, largely unnecessary breath. “Charles Tucker, I…I love you.”

The other man turned in his arms, sleepy blue eyes shining. “Really?”

Q smiled. “Really.”

Tucker’s smile could have lit the whole ship. He snuggled back down into Q’s chest again with a happy sigh. “I love you too, Q. With my whole heart. Ain’t never felt anything like it before, for anyone.”

“Me either, lover,” Q whispered, his own smile equally bright. He leaned into the snuggle and closed his own eyes, reveling in the feeling of the man in his arms and the wonderful, magical thing that had grown so unexpectedly between them. “And if I have my way, it will never come to an end.”

 

Q popped in on Picard in his ready room again approximately one week after his last visit, just as the captain was about to get himself a cup of tea. “Jean Luc,” he said bowing. “I don’t suppose you’re free at the moment?”

Picard raised an eyebrow, this was new; normally Q would have just snatched him off the ship without so much as a by-your-leave. “You left rather abruptly last week, was everything all right?”

“No, but it is now.” Q shrugged. “Charles is so intent on not taking advantage of me that he refused to call me even though his life was in danger.”

“Was he harmed?”

“Shock, and a few scrapes and bruises, that was all. I reached him in time. He’s just fine now.” Q waved a hand. “You said you’d like to meet him, I thought today might be a good time. If you still want to, that is?”

“As I said before, I’d be honored.” Picard was finding this situation more and more surreal. “I assume he’s waiting for us?”

“Yes – very nervously, as a matter of fact.” Q’s eyes twinkled. “Shall we?”

“One moment, please.” Picard turned toward the comm. “Commander Riker?”

“ _Yes, Captain?_ ”

“You have the bridge for the next hour,” Picard told him. “I don’t want to be disturbed in that time.”

A pause, then, “ _Understood, Captain._ _You’ll be in your ready room?_ ”

Picard smiled. “No,” he answered. “But I’ll be back here in an hour. Picard out.” He turned back to Q. “Wouldn’t do to have the whole ship looking for me and poor Will making himself too terribly at home in my chair,” he said. “Thank you for waiting, we can go whenever you’re ready.”

Q bowed again, and the small room was replaced by a green hill overlooking a fertile farming valley. A man was standing in front of them, young to Picard’s eyes, wearing a jumpsuit uniform that the _Enterprise_ captain had only seen in museums. He held out his hand. “Lieutenant Commander Tucker, I presume?”

The young man smiled, making blue eyes light up as he took the offered hand in a firm grip. “You must be Captain Picard. And now I see why Q hates my uniform so much.”

Picard laughed. “We have streamlined quite a bit in two hundred years, yes,” he said. “But there have been times I’d have given anything for that zipper yours is equipped with.”

Tucker laughed with him that time, and Q joined in. A checkered blanket appeared on the grass, a basket to one side of it. “I hope this location is all right with you, Jean Luc,” Q said. “This is where I brought Charles when I first met him.”

“Then I am doubly honored.” Picard took a look around, admiring the view before he sat down. The sun overhead was bright, but the gentle breeze kept it from becoming unpleasant. “It’s a lovely spot – and quite a nice change from the inside of the ship. It’s been far too long since we had shore leave, far too long.”

“Sometimes the decks get awfully hard, don’t they?” Tucker commiserated with him. He pulled a bottle out of the basket and handed it to the older man. “Q said this was the one you’d recommend, he said you’re the expert.”

Picard smiled. “I’d better be, I grew up on a vineyard in Southern France. I appreciate the compliment, though.”

“You’re most welcome,” Q replied. He reached around his lover and removed other things from the basket, cheese and bread and three wineglasses, and passed them around. Then he settled in next to Tucker and poured the wine for everyone. “If you’d like to make the toast, Jean Luc?”

“Certainly.” Picard held his glass aloft, admiring the way the sunlight sparkled through the rich liquid. There were many words he could have used, but seeing the look Tucker was giving Q told him only two were needed. His smile softened sentimentally. “To love,” he said.

“To love,” the other two men echoed, and everyone drank deeply. The conversation that followed was cautious, as befitted three people separated by time, but Picard found himself enjoying it immensely anyway. Tucker was genial, charming and intelligent, and the _Enterprise_ captain thought privately that if the man ever showed up on board his ship in one of _their_ uniforms every woman on board and some of the men would likely forget what they were doing when he walked by. He also brought out a side of Q Picard hadn’t known existed, and the captain found himself liking that as well.

Talk eventually turned to ships and engines, and Tucker was careful not to ask any questions he couldn’t hear the answer to. He had plenty of others, though, the one he most wanted answered being, “So what warp speed have you got up to, Cap’n? Have you boys cracked the warp 10 barrier yet?”

Picard was surprised – both that he liked the Southern-abbreviated version of his rank and by the question itself. “You’re only up to what now, Warp 5? How did you know about the barrier?”

“It’s in the equations, if you know how to look at ‘em,” Tucker told him with a shrug. “I’ve got an idea of how to beat it, I just wondered if you’d found the same thing I did.”

“No, no we haven’t. There are people working on it, but so far as I know no one has even gotten close.” Picard cocked his head; he’d read through Tucker’s record, but the man’s brilliance was still amazing. “What was your theory, Mr. Tucker?”

“It’d be easier if I showed you…” Tucker patted the pockets of his uniform, and acknowledged the appearance of a pad of paper and a pencil in front of him with a smile for Q. “Thanks. Okay, I don’t know if you can follow the math for this but I’ll explain it as I go. See, this is Einstein’s original theory of space-time relatin’ to the speed of light,” he said, scribbling a line of symbols and figures across the paper. “And here’s what happened when we broke it an’ came up with warp theory…but past a certain point in warp theory ol’ Einstein comes back and shows you up again, see?”

Picard did see, even though the formula wasn’t something he could fully comprehend. “So that,” he pointed to the same place Tucker’s pencil was pointing to, “is the Warp 10 barrier?”

“Yep, sure is. I’d guess all the stuff Einstein thought would happen if you crossed light speed would happen right there, but in reverse because the numbers are negative now – instead of time stayin’ the same for you, once you cross the barrier time would speed up for you and stay the same for the place you leave and come back to.” The engineer grinned at him and then started scribbling again. “Okay, but we cracked Einstein once, the way I see it we can do it again. This is just a theory, but I think that if you do to the warp field equations what you did to Einstein’s theory way back there, you’d get…right here… _super_ -light speed, we’ll call it, an’ then you wouldn’t have to worry about time effects any more.”

“I see, yes.” Picard’s eyes were wide. “You’re in a sense taking the warp-field that the engines generate and then enclosing that inside a second field to get you past the barrier, correct?”

“Close enough.” Tucker’s grin became rueful. “Of course, it wouldn’t work with the technology we’ve got in my time, maybe not even in yours. But it’s mathematically possible.”

“Mathematical possibilities eventually become physical ones,” Picard told him. He gestured at the paper. “I don’t suppose I could…”

“If Charles doesn’t mind,” Q answered. He knew Picard was worried about making a temporal mistake, but Tucker was from his past so there really wasn’t any damage the engineer could to the future. “It is his theory, after all. But I don’t think your Mr. LaForge has the vision for it, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

Picard shook his head and ignored the pun. “No, Geordi isn’t who I was thinking of at all. My chief engineer,” he explained to Tucker. “He’s not like you, he’s command-track and working his way up to a captaincy of his own, using the position as a stepping stone. He’s a good chief engineer for me, but his heart isn’t in it the way a true engineer’s is. No, the person I was thinking of is time-displaced himself, a Commander Scott who served on the Enterprise 1701-A nearly a hundred years before my time. He loves his work, and this,” he waved the paper, now detached from the pad, “would absolutely delight him.”

Tucker beamed. “Be my guest, then,” he said. “If it won’t mess up the time continuum, he’s welcome to it. I’d be glad to get another engineer’s opinion, to tell the truth.” He watched as Picard carefully folded and tucked the piece of paper into a heretofore invisible pocket. “Now there’s the problem with your uniform, not much place to put things you want to hold on to.”

“Very true – when I leave the ship I usually wear a jacket with larger pockets,” Picard told him. In spite of how much he was enjoying himself, though, the _Enterprise_ captain knew that he really did have to be getting back to his ship – and he thought Q and Tucker might want some time alone as well. “It has been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Tucker,” he said, standing up and offering his hand again. “I really must be getting back now, but I hope we’ll meet again sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Tucker replied with a smile, standing up himself and taking the older man’s hand again in that same firm grip. “You’ve seen a lot of interestin’ places, a lot more than we have so far.”

Picard grinned at him. “Give yourselves time,” he replied with a wink. “You’ve seen some interesting things yourself. Some of the races you’ve encountered have changed greatly in my time, and some of them have all but disappeared entirely. Until the next time, then.”

Tucker nodded, and then Picard and Q were standing back in the captain’s ready room. “He’s a wonderful young man, Q,” Picard told the entity warmly. “I can certainly see how you developed such feelings for him.”

“He is like no one I’ve ever met before,” Q answered. He suddenly looked a little shamefaced. “Jean Luc, about Vash…”

“She was a thief,” Picard interrupted him. He’d wondered when this would come up, and he’d been thinking about what he should say. “She was very attractive to me, that I’ll admit, but there could never have been anything lasting between her and myself. And she did choose to go.” He smiled. “Your apology for stealing her away is accepted, however. I take it you and she eventually parted ways as well?”

“Thank you, yes we did,” Q sighed and shook his head. “She was fascinating, but I’m afraid the feeling wasn’t mutual, at least not for long. And I’m glad you liked Charles. Do be sure you keep up with what Mr. Scott does with that formula, he’ll want to know.”

“I’ll be certain to. Thank you for a lovely afternoon.” Picard halted Q from popping back out with an upraised hand. “Just a moment please, if you would; I had a question for you. I was looking through our records, I wanted to know something about him before we met, and the dates…” He grimaced, his voice becoming sympathetic. “He looks about the right age to me now. Have you told him?”

“No.” Q shook his head. “No, I haven’t told him. It’s two months away, his time.”

“I understand.” Picard frowned, though. “But what will _you_ do?”

Q sighed, shaking his head again. “I can’t change time, Jean Luc; it has to happen.” But he smiled then, a secretive, mischievous smile that would have worried Picard two weeks ago but reassured him now. “Tell you what, after it’s over I’ll bring Charles here for a visit.” He winked. “You can even show him your engine room – we’ll show Mr. LaForge what a _real_ engineer looks like, shall we?”

Picard laughed. The experience might be good for LaForge, at that; the young man had talent and drive, but these days ambition was having a deleterious effect on his personality. Some of his behavior with Commander Scott had been really quite disgraceful, from what Picard had heard around the ship. “I’ll be looking forward to it. In two months, then.”

“Less than that, from your perspective,” Q replied, and vanished.

 

Two months later Archer was sitting in his ready room, staring out the window, when a flash of light heralded Q’s appearance. “Go away,” the captain growled. “You aren’t welcome here.”

“I don’t want to be here sharing space with you either,” Q shot back. Archer hadn’t made things easy for his lover lately, watching him constantly, trying to order the engineer to call on Q for ‘favors’ time and time again. “So far as I’m concerned you’re not worth the effort, but…someone else doesn’t see it that way. So I came to make sure you behaved yourself while he said goodbye.”

“Trip is dead,” was the rejoinder. “You didn’t save him, our sensors showed…that he was there when the shuttlepod exploded. I don’t know what you’re playing at…”

“Temporal maintenance.” Q’s voice was even, if a bit irritated. “It was time for him to die, I can’t muck up three hundred years of history no matter how much I love him. And for your information the biomatter you found after the explosion was his idea. Now are you going to be nice or should I take him someplace else and explain that his former ‘best friend’ is too much of a bastard to let him make his final farewell?”

Archer stared at him for a long moment, processing what he’d just been told. “So Trip…”

“Isn’t dead, no – and he never will be.” Q folded his arms across his chest and glowered impatiently. “Well? We don’t have all day and you _should_ have work to do, Captain.”

“If I’m not mistaken _you_ have all the time in the world,” Archer contradicted sourly, but he nodded all the same. “Yes, I want to see him.”

There was another flash and Trip Tucker was standing beside Q, still in his uniform but minus the scattered burns and the bloody gash on his forehead that he’d had the last time his captain had seen him. “Yes I _am_ dead,” he said, frowning at both of the other men. “I’m dead _here_ , in this timeline, and there ain’t no way to change that.” He gave Q one more meaningful look before turning his full attention on Archer. “Cap’n. Sorry I had to leave you hangin’ like that, but I’m sure you understand.”

Archer slowly got to his feet. “No, I don’t,” he didn’t quite snap; Q was giving him a very warning look, and he knew he had to tread carefully. “You shouldn’t be dead.”

“Yeah, I should be – verified that before I came back to see you, I knew you wouldn’t believe Q.” Tucker shook his head. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving us…” Archer accused.

“Well of course I am, I’m _dead_.” The engineer rolled his eyes. “Would probably raise a few eyebrows if I stuck around after that, don’t ya think?” He glanced back up at his lover, grimacing. “You may have been right, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”

“Your intentions were good – and don’t mention the road to Hell, please, that doesn’t apply in this situation and you know it. This is his problem, not yours.”

“I have a problem with him deceiving us and letting everyone think he’s dead!” the captain interrupted, scowling.

Tucker whirled on him. “No, you have a problem with bein’ the one who got me killed!” he snapped back. “And that ain’t my problem either – it’s your own fault you don’t listen to your security officer. Malcolm told you he didn’t trust the situation, that he thought it could blow up any time, and you still sent me down there into it.” He stepped closer, blue eyes blazing. “I asked to come back to say goodbye to my friend, ‘cause I knew he’d be upset and I wanted him to feel better,” he continued. “But if what you need is a kick in the pants then I can do that too, Jonny.” Archer started; Trip hadn’t called him that in over a year. Not since the Vissians... “They won’t blame you for what happened – I checked that too,” the engineer was saying. “But it’s up to you to listen to Malcolm and make damn sure it doesn’t happen again. Either pull your stubborn head out of your ass and learn from your mistakes or get the hell out of the captain’s chair and stay out of it!”

Archer’s mouth dropped open. “Are you trying to say you don’t think I’m fit to command?”

“What I’m tryin’ to say,” Tucker corrected him, “is that you know as well as I do that you’ve been screwin’ up but you haven’t done anything to fix it.” He waved a hand to cut off whatever Archer was about to say. “Don’t tell me T’Pol is supposed to help you out with that, either; she hasn’t got a clue about half the time because Vulcans don’t run things the way we do. And you shouldn’t ever have slept with her, that just screwed her up more.”

Shock-widened eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And just how did you know about that?”

Tucker snorted. “Oh stop, Q didn’t tell me – he didn’t have to, I’ve known you how long? You’ve been tryin’ to figure out how to get some of that since you first laid eyes on her. And you know, you might want to think about why they stuck a really young Vulcan woman on board this ship as your second and then had her wear that catsuit instead of a uniform; if you’d use your brain you’d realize they don’t even have women in the command structure on a Vulcan ship, and their women back home don’t dress like that either. They saw you comin’, Jonny, before _Enterprise_ ever left Earth’s orbit.” He sighed and shook his head at the look on Archer’s face. “Like talkin’ to a fencepost,” he told Q. “Don’t know why I even bothered.”

“Because you’re a noble, honorable man and the best friend a bastard like this is ever going to have,” Q replied casually. “And it’s not your fault he won’t listen to reason, lover. However, if you’re quite finished trying to save him from himself, I believe we’re due to pay Captain Picard a visit on his ship.”

Tucker cocked an eyebrow at him. “Did he actually _invite_ us to visit him on his ship?”

Q grinned. “Yes, actually, the last time I spoke to him – which was just a few days ago, from his perspective. Personally, I think he wants to show off his ship.”

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint him, then – and I’d love to take a look at that Warp 9 engine they’ve got.” The engineer turned back to Archer, the smile he was wearing also something that the captain hadn’t seen in a long time. And something he hadn’t realized until that moment how much he’d missed. “Well, I tried, Jonny; you’ll either figure it out or you won’t. Take care of yourself, okay?”

And before Archer could answer, before he could even say anything…they were gone.

He’d just circled back around his desk and was starting to sink into his chair when Q reappeared, startling him back to his feet. “One last thing,” the entity said crisply. “In two weeks’ time, you’re going to meet up with an old friend.” The sneer on the words was palpable. “He’s going to be very glad to see you, Captain Jonathan Archer, because he’s been looking for this ship in order to deliver a very important message. And if you play your cards right you might even net an alliance for Starfleet from his people. Good luck – you’ll definitely need it.”

And then he was gone again, leaving a disturbed captain in his wake. Two weeks later, they were hailed by the same Vissian ship they’d encountered before. The captain was delighted to see Archer and said they’d been looking for _Enterprise_ for some time. And then he’d asked about the ship’s chief engineer. Archer thought he knew why, and he was pleased to tell the Vissian captain that they’d punished Tucker severely for what he’d done and would have dismissed him from service entirely if they’d been able to. To his surprise, the other captain seemed shocked and horrified and immediately wanted to know what had been done to the engineer and where he was. So Archer told him.

Starfleet did not get to have an alliance with the Vissians for almost 20 years…not until they cleared the record of one Charles Tucker III, deceased, and made public the high honor the Vissian government had bestowed on him for helping to open their eyes to the wrong they’d been doing their own – the murder, albeit unintentional, of ‘Charles’ by its users in the name of punishment had rocked the Vissian homeworld. The cogenitors themselves held him as very nearly a saint, and it was said that once he’d even appeared to a group of them and told them to take down the shrine they were constructing in his honor and not to build any more. And they’d obeyed him…but even so, the surname of all cogenitors remained ‘Charles’ for the next two centuries.

Much to the embarrassment of the man himself.


End file.
